


Dirges in the Dark

by blackkat



Series: Ridiculous KakaObi AUs [13]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Deals, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21671878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Kakashi brings his new husband back to his family home. Things would probably be a lot more straightforward if said new husband wasn't also the general of Hell's legions.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Ridiculous KakaObi AUs [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/275214
Comments: 27
Kudos: 1433





	Dirges in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Fic #666 on AO3! So of course I had to do a demon AU.

It’s been a long time since Obito was in a place like this, wide open and empty. The golden grasses seem to stretch for miles into the darkness, and there’s no trace of civilization beyond the weathered old farmhouse and the squat red barn. Even the road seems to lead nowhere, curling out into the night with no apparent end, just miles and miles of prairie in front of them and a deep wood at their back.

Behind him, the screen door creaks, and a foot catches a squeaky board. Obito doesn’t move, even when a body settles beside him on the step. A steaming cup finally makes him turn his head, and he smiles crookedly at Kakashi, but takes it.

“Tea?” he asks. “What about my coffee?”

“It’s chamomile,” Kakashi says shamelessly. “I know you’re insatiable, but we moved hundreds of boxes today and I want my beauty sleep.”

“Well, you definitely need it,” Obito retorts, but he takes a sip anyway, and can’t help but smile at the taste of honey and a little vanilla. He’s never even mentioned he likes it, but Kakashi’s clever.

With a hum, Kakashi tips into his side, cradling his own tea, and his eyes do the same sweep that Obito’s have been doing for the last hour, scanning the darkened horizon and the last thin line of reddish-gold painting the edge of the world. His breath is long and slow, content in a way Obito’s never heard before, and he asks quietly, “Like it?”

“We’re definitely not going to be able to eat as much takeout,” Obito says, but he can feel the faint tension in Kakashi’s body, the way he’s waiting. It’s a question that means something, and Obito pauses for a moment and then says, “It’s beautiful.”

“Spring’s even better,” Kakashi says, but there’s a thread of relief in his voice that makes Obito want to roll his eyes a little. It’s not like he’s about to pack up and run for the city. Not when Kakashi is here. Obito has a marriage certificate in the safe upstairs that would frown on that.

“Can’t wait,” he says, and Kakashi elbows him, then settles against the railing and stretches his long legs out.

“It’s not what you’re used to, but I think you’ll like it,” he says, and tips his head, like he’s looking at the deep shadow the house casts across the grass. The lone oak off to the side frames it, its shadows a tangle of branches still thick with leaves, and the rustle of the branches is the only sound Obito can hear.

With a snort, Obito turns, sets his tea aside, and drops back, claiming Kakashi’s lap as a pillow without hesitation. “So where’s the nearest strip joint?” he asks, raising a challenging eyebrow at Kakashi. “I don’t want to get out of practice.”

Kakashi’s eyes crinkle, even though he hides his smile behind his mug. “I reserve the right to tell my friends that I ran off to the city and married a stripper before you go back to work,” he says. “But after that you’re welcome to drive two hours to the nearest place every night if you want.”

Obito pulls a face, and he’s still not used to actually having to drive himself everywhere. Buses are a hell of a lot more convenient. “No thanks,” he says dryly. “I think I’ll banish my four-inch heels to the back of the closet and take up housewifery.”

Kakashi doesn’t laugh, though. For a moment he stares down at Obito, then slowly, carefully curls his fingers into his short hair and strokes gently. “You know,” he says quietly, “I didn’t bring you out here because I wanted to force you to change.”

Something in Obito’s chest twists, and he snorts, closing his eyes. He knows that. But—Kakashi’s one of the only people he’s ever met that he _wants_ to change for.

“You seem to have the wrong idea about me ever making even a passing attempt at making your life easier,” he tells Kakashi. “I would never.”

A startled pause, and then Kakashi chuckles, leans down. Obito tips his head to meet him, and the kiss is slow, deep. It makes heat melt down Obito’s spine, a slow slide that settles in his gut, and when he opens his eyes Kakashi is looking down at him, grey eyes almost black in the low light.

“So,” Kakashi says, and it’s gratifying that his voice is just a little rough. “I have this fantasy of defiling every inch of my childhood home with a hot stripper. Know anyone who might be interested in helping with that?”

“I thought you were tired from a hard day of manual labor,” Obito drawls. He eyes Kakashi for a moment, then smirks. “But if you’re not, you know, I haven’t put those boots away yet. Or those shorts you like so much.”

“Mm.” Kakashi makes a show of considering it, and then offers airily, “I suppose I could be convinced.”

“Could you now,” Obito says, dust-dry, and sits up. “Go get the sheets on the bed, then. I’m not having sex on a bare mattress.”

Kakashi heaves a put-upon sigh, but rises to his feet, leans in for one more quick, heated kiss, and says, “Fine, but then I want the feather boa, too.”

“Deal,” Obito allows, and watches him saunter into the house, putting a deliberate sway in his walk. It makes him snort, and he stays where he is for a moment, watching the lights come on inside. Then, with a breath, he rises to his feet and looks out into the darkness.

There’s only a thin sliver of moon in the sky, and he can see the pale edge of the galaxy cutting above them in a thick swath of stars. Out in the grass, nothing moves but the wind, and behind them the forest stretches on for miles until it reaches the edge of the distant mountains. There’s nothing and no one, and the world feels heavy, hungry, vast.

Raising one fingertip, Obito draws a sharp line down through the air, and bloody-black light follows. Deliberately, like a dare to the dark, Obito sketches the sigil into existence, then steps back and stares at it as it hangs there. He can feel the edges of Hell bleeding through, the dark, thrumming power that seeps into each line, and it makes him smile, just a little. Thin and dangerous, edged with teeth, and his shadow cast by the burning sigil flickers. For an instant it distorts, sending an image of black feathers scattering across the porch and the grass beyond, and—

Sharp, sudden, Obito clenches one hand into a fist. Instantly, the sigil winks out of view, even though Obito can feel it still present, eager and ready to snap up any intruders.

It’s quick work, but more than good enough to deal with a few humans, Obito thinks. He passes his hand over the space it occupies, making sure Kakashi won’t notice, and then heads inside to find his heels and his husband, in that order.

“You're sure you don’t want to come into town with me?” Kakashi asks, closing the truck’s tailgate with a rusty creak, and if Obito wasn’t paying attention to his face he might miss the flicker of wariness there. “I know it’s different than Ame, but it’s civilization. Mostly.”

“You also told me they roll up the sidewalks at six,” Obito counters, and snorts when Kakashi pulls a face. “It’s fine, Kakashi. I’ll keep unpacking the kitchen. Just don’t run off with any other strippers while I'm not looking.”

Kakashi snorts, but comes around the side of the truck, leaning in. Obito takes the kiss with a pleased hum, and when Kakashi slips an arm around him, he doesn’t pull away.

“I would absolutely run away with another stripper,” Kakashi says, eyes crinkling, “except I already landed the best one on my first try. I should probably stop while I'm ahead.”

“While you _have_ a head,” Obito counters, and snickers when Kakashi leers. “Oh, shut up. Go away and leave me to put arsenic in your dinner in peace.”

“I knew you only married me for my vast tracts of valuable land,” Kakashi laments, but he pulls away, opening the truck’s door. “If you need me…”

“I’ll be fine, Kakashi,” Obito tells him, amused. “I'm not going to waste away without a twenty-four-hour grocery on the corner.”

“If you say so,” Kakashi says, and it shouldn’t be charming, that he’s an asshole, but Obito still smiles when he blows a kiss. Stepping back, he waits until Kakashi starts the truck and starts to back out of the drive, then waves. Kakashi waves back, and Obito stands where he is as he pulls away, watching the pickup rattle its way down the long, dusty road towards the highway.

The last sound fades into nothing, and the wind sighs in long, lonely breaths across the fields. Slowly, Obito lowers his hand, then turns. Not back towards the house, but towards the forest instead.

He loves Kakashi. Meeting him in Ame was unexpected, impossible, one moment of connection that Obito had been missing for centuries. It sparked a feeling, and Obito hadn’t felt anything before that since his Fall.

Since he was dragged down, he thinks, and raises his head, stalking towards the trees.

Kakashi had a sad story, a closed heart. Maybe that’s what caught Obito's attention in the city, seeing him in the crowd. Unaffected, not quite uninterested but almost, and Obito had noticed but not approached him then. Met him in an alley afterwards, when an idiot though he’d mug a stripper and Kakashi stepped in, and—

Well. Obito probably wasn’t supposed to get invested, but he did. And when Kakashi had mentioned a vanished father, a lot of bad luck centered on one piece of land, he hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t convinced Kakashi not to go back to his childhood home, either.

The shadows swallow him, and Obito lets the human skin he’s been wearing fall away. Keeps moving, his shadow writhing around his feet like a living thing, and lifts his head, more than able to feel the pressure burning against his simple ward.

“Madara,” he says into the darkness that noon can't touch.

There's a pause, a stirring. Red kindles in the dark, eyes opening, and Madara smiles, heat and fangs and smug, burning satisfaction as the King of Hell steps forward.

“Obito,” he says, and fingers catch Obito's chin, tip his head up. “You're looking well. I see the human world agrees with you.”

“Sin is easy to find, when you're looking for it.” Obito knocks his hand away, but doesn’t step back. “Madara. What are you doing here?”

There’s anger rising, even though Madara hides it behind his smirk. “My top general vanished into the human world and you expect me not to look for him?” he asks, condescending. “Don’t be a fool, Obito.”

“For once in my life, Madara, I'm not.” Obito raises a hand, and he can feel the burn of Hellfire rising in his veins. Once it was light, light and air and something good, but it’s been a very long time since then. But—

He doesn’t have to be an angel to do this. Madara made him, twisted him, and Kakashi hasn’t _un_ twisted him, but…maybe it’s something similar. A selfish desire to make Kakashi happy, that translates as something entirely unselfish in the execution.

“Madara,” he says, and curls his fingers. Draws Hellfire-forged iron from empty air, and says, “I’m claiming a soul that’s in your possession.”

Madara is watching him, silent, amused. For a long moment the only sound is the wind in the treetops, and then he says, “Your little human lover’s soul? I think you overestimate my reach, Obito.”

“No,” Obito says, and plants the butt of the staff on the ground, dark shadows curling around him. “His father. Driven to suicide by demons twenty years ago. That’s the soul I want.”

“Ahh,” Madara says, an exhalation, a revelation. “But why would I want to give that soul up? It’s such a light, lovely one.”

“I don’t care what you _want_ ,” Obito says dangerously, and laughs, wild, _furious_. “You're going to give it to me because it’s _mine_. Because Kakashi is mine, and so is everything that touches him.”

“I made you avaricious,” Madara says, pleased with himself. “How well it worked.”

“I made myself,” Obito retorts. “The soul, Madara.”

Madara clicks his tongue. “So impatient. And what will you offer me in return, Obito? I lose my best general and a treasured soul. This hardly seems like a fair trade to me.”

For a century now Obito's been hoarding secrets, never quite loyal. And maybe now Madara's figuring that out, because when Obito meets his eyes they're narrowed, wary, calculating.

“I’ll tell you where Hashirama fell to earth,” Obito says, and Madara goes perfectly, impossibly still.

It’s a winning blow, and Obito knows that. He laughs, raw, ragged in his throat. “One of the powers of creation,” he taunts. “You loved him before he was cast down, didn’t you, Madara? Even the lord of Hell has a heart.”

“Give me the location,” Madara snarls. “Now, Obito, and I won't remove your head from your shoulders.”

“Soul first,” Obito says, meeting his gaze.

Madara growls, rumbling, inhuman, and takes a step forward.

A shotgun cocks.

“You heard him,” Kakashi says mildly, and Obito casts him a sideways glance but doesn’t move. “They're blessed bullets, in case you were thinking of trying anything.”

Madara's gaze flickers from Obito to Kakashi in the trees, but instead of lunging he draws back, makes a low, derisive sound in the back of his throat. “All of this for a Hunter’s soul?” he demands.

“Think of it as a wedding present,” Obito says, pointed.

“Useless boy,” Madara growls, and reaches out. Kakashi tenses, but Madara just grips Obito's chin, claws digging into his skin. “You’ll regret this.”

Obito laughs in his face. “Never,” he says. “You taught me better than that, Madara.”

With a snarl, Madara drags him into a brutal kiss, one hard press of lips and tongue and Hellfire, and then shoves him back. “A deal,” he spits. “Sakumo Hatake for Hashirama’s location.”

Obito laughs, feeling the bond settle. Even the king of hell can't break a deal like that. “He’s in the mountains near Kumo, where three rivers meet. There’s an island with a shrine, and he’s sleeping there.”

Madara's breath rushes out in a hot exhale, brimstone and coal, and he grins, all sharp teeth and blood. “A deal,” he echoes, and reaches into nothing, then drags a man out of it. Drops him at Obito's feet and then is gone, an explosion of screaming ravens that rise and take flight. They vanish over the mountains almost faster than Obito can track, and the shadows are suddenly normal again, no longer impossibly thick and dark.

“Well,” Kakashi says into the silence. “That went more easily than I expected. Even if you did completely fail to follow the plan.”

“Madara showed up early. I was improvising.” Obito crouches down, checking for a pulse just to be sure Madara didn’t try for a trick. He didn’t, though; Sakumo's heart is steady, as is his breathing, and even if he’s pale that’s likely to be expected after twenty years in hell. “The useless posturing was a nice touch.”

“Thank you, I tried.” Kakashi brushes a hand over his long hair, then drags his nails across Obito's curled horns, and smiles when he shivers. “I think it’s been too long since we played around with this form. You’ve been holding out on me, Obito.”

“I've been waiting so we could catch Madara off guard,” Obito retorts, and tries to hide the way his breath catches when Kakashi’s fingers curl around his horn. “Stop that, your father is _right here_.”

“I suppose,” Kakashi allows, “that him waking up to me kissing a demon might be misinterpreted.”

“You think?” Obito mutters, and straightens. “You should probably carry him, too. It’s not like I can _hide_ what I am when a Hunter’s that close.”

“Yes,” Kakashi says, dry. “I remember. That was a shock.”

Obito scoffs, but before he can say anything, Kakashi pulls him in, a hand around his waist, and kisses him. It’s slow and soft and careful, and Obito sighs into it, sagging into Kakashi’s touch, dropping his shakujo and tangling his fingers in wiry white hair.

“No more kissing the King of Hell,” Kakashi murmurs against his lips. “You’ll make your husband jealous.”

“How terrible,” Obito returns, breathless. “Jealousy is a sin, you know.”

Kakashi kisses him again. “Good thing a terrible demon already stole my soul, then,” he says. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“Mine,” Obito growls, and lets Kakashi press him up against a tree. “ _Forever_.”

Judging by the way Kakashi kisses him, he doesn’t have any problem with that at all.


End file.
